So what? She should be pleased. Nick warmed parts of her she hadn’t known were cold. He held her and he made her feel every inch a woman.
She should embrace this new direction with everything she possessed. She knew she should.
But then Nick would tell her about watching the sunset over the Sahara, or Bailey would say, ‘You remember that humungous waterfall we walked under where there was a whole room behind?’
Or Nick would see a picture in the paper and say, ‘Bailey, do you remember this? Your mother and I took you there…’
And she’d wait until they’d gone to bed and she’d check the Internet and see what they’d been referring to. The dogs would lie on her feet, a wonderful warm comfort, like a hot-water bottle. Loving her. Holding her safe.
Holding her here.
‘So when do you think he’ll pop the question?’ Louise demanded as term end grew closer, and she blushed and said,
‘He hasn’t even…I mean we’re not…’
‘You mean you haven’t slept with him yet?’ Her friend threw up her hands in mock horror. ‘What’s keeping you, girl?’
Nothing. Everything. Louise got another duster thrown at her and Misty went to lay the situation before Gran.
‘I love him,’ she told Gran and wondered why it didn’t feel as splendid as it sounded.
Maybe it was sadness that was making her feel ambivalent about this wonderful direction her life was taking. For Gran didn’t respond; there was no longer any way she could pretend she did. Her hands didn’t move now when Ketchup lay on the bed. There was no response at all.
Oh, Gran…
If she didn’t have Nick…
But she did have Nick. She’d go home from the hospital and Nick would hold her, knowing intuitively that things were bad. She’d sink into his embrace and he’d hold her for as long as she needed to be held. He’d kiss her, deeply, lovingly, but he never pushed. He’d prop her into a rocker and make her dinner and threaten her with cocoa if she didn’t eat it.
He and Bailey would make her smile again.
What more could a girl want?
‘Are you sure he hasn’t asked?’ Louise demanded a week later.
She shook her head, exasperated. ‘No.’
‘He looks like a man who’s proposed. And been accepted.’
‘How could I miss a proposal?’
‘You’re not encouraging him.’ Louise glared. ‘Get proactive. Jump his bones. Get pregnant!’
‘Oi!’
‘He’s a hot-blooded male. There must be something holding him back.’
She knew there was. It was her reluctance. He sensed it and he wouldn’t push.
All she had to do was smile. All she had to do was accept what he was offering.
She would, she thought. She must.
And then Gran…
Five in the morning was the witching hour, the hour when defences were down, when everything seemed at its worst. For some reason she woke. She felt strange. Empty.
Something was wrong. She threw back the covers and the phone rang.
Gran.
‘She’s dead.’ She barely knew if she’d said it out loud. She was in the hall, standing by the phone, staring at nothing. And then Nick was there, holding her, kissing her hair, just holding.
‘I…I need to go.’
‘Of course you do. Put something warm on,’ he said, and while she dressed-her fingers didn’t work so well-she heard him on the phone. Then someone was at the front door. There was a short bark from Ketchup, quickly silenced, and she went out to find Louise in the hall.
Louise’s husband farmed the neighbouring property, and Louise’s son was in the same grade as Bailey. Louise and Misty often swapped classes, so Bailey already knew Louise well.
She hugged Misty now, tight. ‘Oh, Misty, love, she was a lovely lady, your gran, she’ll be missed. Nick says he’s going to the hospital with you, so we’ve agreed that I’ll stay here until Bailey wakes. Then I’ll scoop him home with me. Is it okay if I tell him what’s happened?’
‘It’s okay,’ she said numbly.
‘And it’s Saturday so there’s no pressure,’ Louise said. ‘If Bailey’s okay with it, maybe he can have a sleepover. That’ll leave you to get on with things. But we can talk later. You’ll be wanting to get to the hospital. Give her a kiss goodbye from me,’ she told Misty and she hugged her again and propelled her out of the door.
Nick held her as they walked to the car. She shivered in the dark and moved closer. She’d known this was coming. It wasn’t a shock. But…
‘She’s all I’ve had for so long.’
‘I wish I’d met her,’ Nick said. ‘Your gran raised you to be who you are. She must have been wonderful.’
She huddled into the passenger seat while Nick drove and she thought of his words. They were a comfort.
And Nick had known Gran. He lived in Gran’s house. He walked on the beach Gran loved. He cooked from her recipe books. And once… She’d needed to stay back late at school. It had been late before she’d made it to the hospital-something she hated. Gran probably no longer knew she came every day but there was a chance…
So she’d rushed in, feeling dreadful, to find Nick beside the bed with Bailey curled up beside him.
Nick was reading aloud, Anne of Green Gables, Gran’s favourite book of all time. It wouldn’t be hard to guess it, for the book had been lying on the bedside table, practically disintegrating with age.
She’d stopped short and Nick had smiled at her, but fleetingly, and he hadn’t stopped reading until he reached the end of the chapter.
‘I guess that’s all we have time for tonight, Mrs Lawrence,’ he’d said as he drew to a close. ‘Misty’ll take over now. Bailey and I will leave you while she says goodnight.’
Who knew what Gran had been able to understand, but Nick had read to her, and for now it felt right that he take her into the hospital to say goodbye.
‘Thank you,’ she told him as he drove.
‘It is my very great honour,’ he said. ‘This is a privilege.’
The next few days passed in a blur. Too many people, too much organization, too great a bruise on her heart to take in that Gran finally wasn’t here. If she’d had to do this by herself…
She didn’t. Nick was with her every step of the way. That first night she clung and he held her. If Nick had carried her to his bed she would have gone. But…
‘I don’t want you to come to me in grief,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll hold you until you sleep.’
‘You’re stronger than I am.’ She tried for a chuckle. ‘If you think I can lie beside you and sleep…’
‘Okay, maybe it’s not possible,’ he said and tugged her tight and kissed her, strong, warm, solid. ‘So separate bedrooms still.’
‘Nick…’
‘No,’ he said, almost sternly. ‘I want all of you, Misty. When you come to me it’s not to be because you’re raw and vulnerable. It’s because you want me.’
‘I do want you.’
‘For the right reasons?’ He set her back, tilted her chin and his smile was rueful. ‘Loving you is taking all my strength but I won’t go back on what I promised. I won’t rush you.’
He was stronger than she was. There was nothing she wanted more than to lie with him, to find peace in his body, to find her home…
And she knew, as he turned away, that he sensed it. That she was torn.
There was still a part of her that wasn’t his.
She and Gran had a contact point for her mother-a solicitor in London. A postcard had arrived about five years ago, adding an email address, ‘In case anything ever happens’. She emailed her mother the morning Gran died. She left messages with the solicitor but she heard nothing.
So what was new? She went about the funeral arrangements and she could only feel thankful that Nick was with her. He didn’t interfere. The decisions were hers to make, but he was just…there. His presence meant that at the end of a gruelling time with the funeral director she could stand in Nick’s arms and let his strength and his warmth comfort her. She wasn’t alone.